She Paints Her Pretty Picture

She paints a pretty picture

but the story has some twist

And her canvas is her wrist

she paints her pretty picture

In a color that is blood red

While using her sharp paint brush

she ends up finally dead

Her pretty picture fading

Quite slowly on her arms

the blood is not racing through her

She can no longer do harm

She painted her pretty picture

but her picture had a twist

You see her mind was her razor

And her heart was her wrist..